There Will be Time
by blackbananas
Summary: Severus Snape finds himself unable to cope with daily life at Hogwarts for the neccessity of resolution of his past. Third person perspective. I suggest you read. CHAPTER 2 NOW UP.
1. The Lesson

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. God, I hate these things.**

It was a Wednesday afternoon; twenty minutes before sixteen O'clock. Severus Snape strode through the castle halls toward his dungeon classrooms. It was not so much that he needed to prepare. He wasn't any sort of dunderhead to not know his craft. He took offense at any sort of notion like that, such as when the werewolf used to ask him. No; his time in the dungeons was spent composing himself: perfecting his unfettered mien and preparing himself for the onslaught of stupidity he would have to endure. As much as it pained him, he did not discuss with himself why he even still taught; he brushed it aside and continued clearing his mind.

The room was silent for many minutes. Snape kept his fingers laced and quietly breathed through his nose. Then, as expected, the bushy-haired student Granger came bustling in. Snape gave her a cold stare, and she broke away from his gaze hurriedly and began taking everything out of her bookbag. Weasley and... _Potter_ were not far behind.

The room gradually filled up and the seats became occupied. Snape feigned ignorance when Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco Malfoy came straggling in. He kept quiet. Now was not the time to make a fuss.

"I suppose you all consider yourselves worthy of my class," he drawled. He wasn't in the best of moods, as always, so he was taking his time. "Little do your small minds realise how your supreme ignorance will cost you." His eyes panned the faces of the Golden Trio as he said this. Draco and his little posse were still giggling about some joke or another. He again took no notice. Now was not the time.

"Granted, you all did _wonderfully_ on the last exam." He was layering on the sarcasm now. "You got Poors and deserved Dreadfuls. You should all be superbly thankful of me. Most of you, that is." He did not look at the hopeful Granger, who got an Exceeds Expectations. He eyed his own house while giving the smallest of smirks.

"You will thank me later, in any case, for what I am about to introduce today." Weasley muttered something concerning thankfulness and his previous marks to Potter on his left. "With your habit of _talking_ during my _lectures_, Mister Weasley, you might consider yourself thankful that you pass the fifth year." Potter and Weasley opened their mouths indignantly at this. It quite reminded Snape of the shrake specimen he kept in his office. He ignored this as well and instead turned to the front of the classroom.

"The Confusing and Befuddlement Draught:" He drew in a slow breath. "if used in the proper way, it can cause long-lasting mental inebriation to the drinker. Not that _you_ need any more of that." He looked straight into Potter's eyes for a fraction of a second, then continued surveying the classroom with a smirk. "It is not a solution to be taken lightly. If you find yourself victim to it," He tilted his head ever so slightly. "woe betide you. Now, start."

Everybody promptly got out their supplies and began reading the instructions at the front of the room. Snape quietly kept his watch, even though it did not help his mood. Many days he felt himself becoming almost unbearably angry inside while watching the usual circus of follies that took place. He took level breaths through his nose as he paced inaudibly about the room.

He sensed his first mistake: Longbottom was heaping the sneezegrass into the cauldron, and the fire wasn't even on yet. The boy, as always, had a stupid, bewildered look about him, and was making no attempt to hide it. The professor closed his eyes and, cool and collected as ever, siphoned off the anger that was attempting to aggregate. _There will be time._ He satisfied himself with a small snort and a disparaging look over the hapless idiot. At this, the boy gulped and spilled half his bag onto the floor.

He glided over to the Slytherin section. He always liked to see Malfoy's work. He was certainly not the worst of them. More than that, he knew the boy as one working as cunningly as he could, against the odds; much like himself at that age. Malfoy had already worked through half the steps, and was now stewing it for the second time. The look of the potion did not lie. He was still talking, and taking time from that to comment about the Gryffindors. Yet he knew what he was doing. It always seemed that, through all the classes he taught, his house was alone in that characteristic. Snape gave a small smirk, which the boy returned, and passed on by.

At a leisurely made his way back to the front of the classroom, taking note of the multitudes of errors and making sure to sneer at the culprits. Granted, Granger was farther than the rest, however Snape did not like to see her succeed. She was not truly clever; she had no love for potions and would make a huge mess every time if there wasn't a book in front of her. Her potion was a deep green colour, and he could find nothing she did wrong in spite of it. He suppressed a small amount of frustration. He would find an outlet eventually. He feigned taking no notice of her, even if it meant leaving the _other two_ alone, and moved on silently.

He saw an outlet. Longbottom's cauldron was overflowing with a chunky, gray... mixture, and began to slightly hiss. The boy had a look of worry and was furiously trying to keep the contents inside the cauldron. Snape knew what would happen, but he enjoyed it all the more to stay back.

BOOM.

The mixture exploded and the contents were sent flying into the faces of his classmates. Snape remembered correctly, that the mixture would be highly corrosive, and swept to his private stores for the antidote. It was a pity. He had desperately wanted to make him pay with humiliation, but he calmed himself. _There will be time._ He would accomplish it somehow.

Back at the scene, the children were shouting and moaning. The potion's contact with the skin was creating an odd smell, and more hissing sounds. The Gryffindors watched in horror as their skin was eaten away to reveal bubbling crimson flesh. Snape snorted. It was plainly obvious that, with the ingredients, it hurt much less than it looked. So he took his time.

"Make your way to the front of the room, Gryffindors, if you're that _terribly_ disturbed by it." The Slytherins were laughing in the background. "That is, unless you would like to thank Mr. Longbottom for his excellent example of _being_ that befuddled to start with." The idiot boy put his head in his hands, not realising that some of the mixture was still on them. The laughter in the back of the room got louder. An evil glimmer appeared in Snape's eyes and he smirked.

After most of the students were taken care of, it was time for the next class. "Those of you who are still ailing, Hospital Wing." _Not that they need it,_ Snape thought derisively. He tolerated weakness in his classroom only a bit more than stupidity. "And two rolls of parchment from you, Longbottom, to show me that you actually deserve higher than a Troll in this class. On the actual usage of the potion, due tomorrow." The boy groaned and walked as fast as he could out of the classroom, carrying the cauldron with his still-burned hands. Snape watched him leave. He snorted and went to sit down at his desk again. He sat quietly, and measured his breaths. He reflected back on the lesson today. It was one of many that sorely dissatisfied him. There was no need for any facade of tolerance now, so he allowed himself to scowl freely now. There were no more classes for today, so he strode out.

Silently as a ghost, he made his way down to his quarters, where it was dark and damp as could be. He sat down at his desk and clenched his jaw. Stupidity. He now could interrogate himself on why he was still in that godforsaken position. But no words came to mind. None at all. He continued to sit there, still as a statue; lost in a thought he could not decipher.

It was not worth it to continue this career. He was far above being a simple professor. He could be doing great things with his life, and was instead babysitting a load of teenagers who would amount to veritably nothing. Sticking like glue to a headmaster who did not value him. He knew he was angry. He didn't know why, other than that. For what seemed like a long time, the Potions master sat there and brooded in silence.

Then, suddenly, imperceptibly, a thought floated up to his consciousness:

_Would there be time?_

He put his head down on the desk.

**ER. Please review this thing. I don't know if I'll make this a one-shot or not. But feedback would help. _Danke._**


	2. The Nightmare

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. As far as I know, slaves are still illegal in America. Damn it all.**

That night Snape couldn't get to sleep.

He tried to block out the feelings from that day. Since the lesson he had not been able to completely pick himself back up, and allowed his feelings down in the dungeon to permeate his mind the rest of the day. Oddly enough, Snape was not able to concentrate on the environment around him. He was not thick enough not to take notice.

Even the other professors noticed a difference in his mood. Filius had told him he looked a bit peaky. He had scoffed it off then, but inside he knew that he looked exactly that way. Those who knew him a bit better, such as Minerva, noticed his absentmindedness but said nothing. The Gryffindor Housemistress knew that, with the pressure he was under on a regular basis, it was better not to ask questions. She was avowed to mind her business when it concerned more secretive things like the Order, and her relationship with him through it, and was respectful enough never to press Albus for any information, even in more stressful times. It was well known throughout the faculty that Snape was a very personal person, and whatever he was burdened with, he could solve himself.

Back in his bed, Snape reflected on having to put up with her beady eyes all day, even though he knew she wouldn't bother him further.

He thought of how he had looked today. He felt immensely angry with himself that he almost could not answer a student's question in the Slytherin corridors. He berated himself soundly for this lack of poise. _Lacewings. LACEWINGS. _He scowled into the dirty, damp excuse for a pillow. _Any blundering idiot would know their role in a truth potion. Any idiot..._

Snape was very sure of his abilities. However he couldn't shake off the thought that something, something sparked earlier that day, was amiss. As it was, he had been teaching for many years. He had grown relatively inured to the sorts of idiocy he had to deal with. But today was a worse day, and it was undoubtedly only that. He refused to discuss his feelings with himself any further, and instead concentrated on drifting off to sleep...

_Screaming. Terror. Mania. It was the third or fourth house tonight. The sound of curses almost obscured the yelling from their casters._

"_And look what we have here!" Bellatrix. A petrified child not older than four was cowering in a corner, his eyes fixed on her. "Did Mummy read you a bedtime story tonight? Did she?" The grin on her face was supernatural. The sobbing child shook in his paisley pyjamas, too afraid to make a noise_,_ so the woman continued. "I asked you a QUESTION. DID SHE!" A puddle wasforming on the floor where he sat, and dampening his clothing._ _The boy shook his head very quickly, and the woman laughed, and screamed something about happy endings over the rushing sound of the green light. It was unreal. However, like lightning, Severus broke away his gaze to see what else was happening._

_Dmitry Goyle and Lucius Malfoy were chasing down a full-grown man down the street and hurling curses. The wife was up in the air, shrieking, so Severus decided to follow the husband. The other two were gaining on him, and it would be but a few minutes before they caught up with him completely. But they were still being leisurely with it. It was no fun if they didn't give him a scare first._

"_See if we can make the bastard run a bit longer, shall we?" yelled Dmitry. The pair of them shrieked with laughter and cast another curse which, this time, hit him dead on. The man struggled valiantly against it, but still moved as if he was wading through lead. The plan was to keep the traitor going a bit longer until he began begging. Severus was new, though, and he felt himself losing control. What he shouted was unclear, but there was a flare of bright green and the man ceased struggling. The young, Death Eater didn't notice, over the noisy din. He kept running, running, still looking for the man wildly and screaming curses. Screaming..._

He woke up, panting. He whipped around, wanted to shout for Lucius. The screaming was dying in his ears. He forced himself to get control.

Desk. Beakers. Books. Research papers. Threadbare blankets on the cold floor. He was back.The breathing through his nose sounded like wind through a tunnel.But, at least, he could breathe again.For a considerable amount of time he sat in the dark, silent. The footfalls of the escaping father disappeared in his mind. Bellatrix's voice. The dead child...

He slowly lied back down. Wasn't worth it to think about. Years ago. Insanity. There were more important things to ponder.But he couldn't push the feeling of horror away. To add to it, this was the second time in a day that he had... had... but he couldn't say it. To admit losing control was to lose completely. To fail to maintain a grip meant to die.This knowledge was firmly ingrained in him.

In this murky state, he did not connect his feelings to what he had felt earlier, aware as he was that they both happened.In this state, he cared only about making the nightmare disappear. He began to regain his poise and managed to purge his mind enough to drift back into a fitful, confused sleep.

**Thank you, Silver Sailor Ganymede, for reviewing, and thank you to anyone else who read the first chapter! I am working hard to make this an original, logical story. So, yes, you know what's coming next. Please review.**


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